Wisdom
by Tristana
Summary: is found in strange places. Altaïr goes and messes with the Templars. When he flees to avoid being overwhelmed by their numbers, he encounters someone whose advice may have been needed in other times. Snippet - no pairing at all. Rated T because there's a bit of fight at the beginning. And that's AC.


75th fanfic. How time flies - though looking back, much of what I posted at first would need to meet the trashcan. (But my English got way better. XD)

This is something random I wrote when participating in a Word War for the Campnano - I'm not doing it per se but I do the WW.

Summary: In-between missions, Altaïr is so bored he goes and hunts Templars down. Being the rash man he still is, he attacks, only to have to run away. But it also gives him an occasion to be offered a piece of advice that might prove to be helpful.

Pairing: None! (Ahah, I got you all here, did not expect that, did you?)

This is a snippet, written in something like 20 minutes. And Altaïr might be a tad bit OOC, I'm not so certain. Altaïr will forever be that little cocky SOB - but this is why we love him.^^

* * *

He would not die. He will never let anyone hold him down. Despite what others told him, he will not let himself be trapped into nothingness. The guards were close. And there he ran towards them, surprising them with his actions. He was deemed to be rash, why would he act any different? A sword through the throat of one – the weakness of their heavy armoury. Another in the rib – the world in flashes of red against grey. It was maddening. The stench of blood covering all. He smelled their crippling fear. He knew they could have killed him easily – but his reputation shielded him. He was the eagle, an assassin coming from under the sun to strike them all down. Maybe he was being cocky. He cared not. Not when he knew that he had to do this to protect. The Bureau. Malik himself. The Dai would hate him for this but it was true. His target was not in town yet, what more could he do? And so he went and hunt them down. Templars. And all who stood in his way. More came swarming from the streets. Time to go. Finding a ladder to his left, he dashed towards it, narrowly avoiding a knife thrown his way with way more accuracy than he was used to. Once on top, he made a point of pushing the ladder down. He heard the shouts of those trapped underneath, the thundering of armours clashing together. And he ran, erratically, through the city. He appeared to have no purpose, and that was the point. If the Templars saw him going always to the same area, they would search it. And the Assassin's crest on the rooftop was only so discreet. Templars were not all so stupid, and if they knew what to look for, thing would be very messy. And Malik hated messy.

The sun was battering the roofs with its rays, the heat almost unbearable. He had to lie low and fast, but there were no roof gardens anywhere near and the streets were not safe. He cursed. Way to go, Altaïr. Really, that was just the most brilliant plan ever, to go hunting Templars only to have to flee by the roofs in damned August! It was Hell. The shouts seemed to dim in intensity and he risked a glance backward. No one on the roofs. Time to lie low. He carefully used a ladder to get down, doing his best to look inconspicuous to the guards who no doubt watched him. He made his way to a bench in a small garden, under the welcomed shade of a tree. It was still hot but it was bearable. He let out a shuddering breath, trying to calm the adrenalin that coursed through his veins. He had to calm down. He let his body bend forward, as the men sitting by his side. At that moment, the one to his right extended a full waterskin. He cast a glance to him, seeing he was an elderly man. He was smiling to the assassin, though he lacked some of his teeth. Altaïr thanked the man, and sipped the water carefully. No need to get sick.

"You youngster always go dashing about, and seem to forget that summer is unforgiving towards fools."

"Foolish I will remain then."

"Foolishness is the privilege of youth. Keep this waterskin, young man. Your day does not seem to be over yet." At this the man smiled, as though he knew. Perhaps he did. The white cowl was not overly discreet and scholars rarely ever slumped over a bench. It should have worried Altaïr a great deal but instead, he only felt grateful that this man, a total stranger, offered him water instead of calling the guards.

"Thank you, old man."

"You will soon learn, son, that giving water to someone is the best gift to be given here." He paused and got up, before catching Altaïr gaze. "Do not deny water to someone because he is your enemy. Every act of kindness shall be repaid in time." And with that he was gone, leaving Altaïr to ponder what he meant.

Perhaps it was reason enough to see Malik's supply of water and food from a different perspective. Perhaps.

* * *

This is actually derived from a Kinkmeme prompt in which Anon asked for Altaïr to befriend a guard. Or something similar. If you want, I can find it for you and PM you the link - the fills were quite a nice read.


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